The Elder Scrolls: The Age of Oppression
by B.K.Reynolds
Summary: Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak believes that the Empire betrayed Skyrim by signing the White-Gold Concordat with the Aldmeri Dominion at the end of the Great War and the Thalmor have too much influence over the Empire so the Stormcloak rebellion begins. Meanwhile an order of vampire hunters known as the Dawnguard seek new recruits to fight against the growing vampire threat.
1. Chapter I: Fall of the Vigilants

"We should storm Red Road Pass now," the Nord man pleaded, his bald head shivering in the cold. "The giants will be dead already and a couple of witches we can handle easily. The longer we wait the darker it will get."

"Do you fear the darkness, Tolan?" the Breton woman mocked in a friendly manner as she pulled the blond hair from her eyes. "We will wait here for the scout to be sure."

"Very well, Carcette," Tolan replied, turning red in the face with embarrassment. "I just don't like to be sitting around in the snow all night waiting for some scout is all. Here he comes. Are they dead?"

"Yes," the scout replied. "Both the giants and the witches."

"Shall we head back to the Hall then?" Talon questioned Carcette.

Carcette thought for a time, nervously unsure of what to do.

"If the scout says the witches are dead that should be good enough," Tolan continued. "They course no threat to Nirn any longer."

"There was something about those witches body's that didn't seem right," the scout said.

"What do you mean?" Carcette questioned. "Explain the scene."

"Well, the witches have already harvested the giants for their ingredients but the witches themselves lay with iron daggers at their sides as if they were defending against attack but there was no blood or cuts that I could see. The bodies were the palest things that I've ever seen."

"Maybe we should investigate," Tolan said. "If there's something else out there we should know it."

The rest of the party began to give complaint of the idea.

"We are the Vigilants of Stendarr!" Carcette's voice yelled, silencing their discussion. "This order was founded after the Oblivion Crisis to protect all of Tamriel from any abominations that seek to prey on mortals, be it Daedra, Vampires, Werewolves or Witches. If there is another threat out there we shall know about it and we shall face it! Now who's with me?"

The small group of Vigilants cheered a war cry in response, holding their swords, maces and axes high as their blue robes blew in the wind and their steel plate armour shined in the moon light.

"Well then, lead us back," Carcette ordered the scout.

The group fallowed the main road in between the east and western mountains until they left the road towards Red Road Pass. The group crept closer using the rocks and large snowberry bushes for cover.

"Something's not right here," Tolan whispered to the others as they all examined the giant's camp.

The giant's fire still burned in the centre of the camp, casting light within the camp. The fire was small for a giant's but still large enough to tower over any man. The giant's dinner was still cooking on their stakes, three skeevers now charred black. Around the fire stood many stone bowls filled with mammoth's cheese, each of them half the height of a fully grown person. There was also a large iron chest overgrown by a large patch of fungus. The rest of the camp was decorated with the typical giant taste of painted rocks, mammoth skulls and bone chimes. The two giants and there mammoth were indeed dead, their limbs cut off and the organs cut out. Their man sized wooden clubs lay alongside their bodies where they had been fighting for their territory. The hulking mammoth lay nearby, its tusks ripped out. There was no sign of the witches.

"What do you mean something's not right?" Carcette asked as she and Tolan ventured fourth.

"Listen. It's too quiet," Tolan replied. "There's no wind in the trees or sounds of animals in the wilderness."

"They all lay dead here, I swear," the scout said pointing as the other Vigilants came out from the bushes.

"Namira's Rot!" Carcette said examining the fungus covered chest before she noticed the figure approaching out of the darkness. "Who's there?"

The Nord man walked further from the darkness as silent as an assassin, his eyes glowing a golden orange, with skin the palest complexion imaginable. His face was almost bat like with narrowed cheeks and a shortened nose, its bridge full of ridges. Ridges also appeared across his forehead and wet blood ran out of his mouth, up to his nose and down to his chin. His leather armour was a mix of red and black.

"She asked who you were, Vampire!" Tolan shouted, raising his steel Warhammer in both hands ready for battle.

"I don't answer to mortal meat," the creature replied revealing its fangs.

The zombified witches ran out of the darkness and locked in to battle with the other Vigilants as Tolan took on their master, one on one. The master raised a steel great sword over his head and brought it down, where it met with the grip of Tolan's Warhammer with a clash. Tolan blocked a second blow soon after but the third knocked him back and the forth he was too late to block. The steel sword cut through his robes but was stopped by the steel plate armour beneath. Tolan quickly stood back up, swinging his Warhammer with all his fury. The weight of the attack knocked the master straight into the giant's fire.

"Death means nothing to me…" He screamed as he burned." Lokil will have his artefact!"

Upon their masters death the thrall witches collapsed into piles of ash and the battle was over.

"That Vampire felt stronger than most," Tolan said sounding uneasy. "And his face was more disfigured than most."

"Keeper Carcette, look," the scout said pointing to the fire rising from the west. "The Hall of the Vigilant burns!"

"The Vampires are attacking," Tolan said jumping back into action. "We must hurry!"

"Wait," Carcette said, holding him back. "I need you to travel north for me, to dawnstar. Seek out Skald the Elder. Plead with him for reinforcements."

"They'll never make it to you in time."

"Please, do as I say."

"Very well," he finished before running away back to the road.


	2. Chapter II: False Kings

The morning came crisp and cold as it always did in the eastern hold of Eastmarch. Jorleif climbed out of bed to prepare for his daily steward duties. Once he was ready, he headed out of his bedchambers and down to the throne room. Nervously he hoped that today would be the day the Jarl returned to the Palace of the Kings.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak had travelled west to Solitude to speak with the young High King, Torygg about his desire for independence from the Empire. However, the rumours that had recently begun to circulate Windhelm troubled Jorleif.

 _They can't be true?_

Jorleif sat at the long table in the centre of the hall, where the Court Wizard, Wuunferth the Unliving was already halfway through a lengthy breakfast of goat's cheese and fresh bread.

"How goes the research Wuunferth?" Jorleif asked, starting conversation.

A faint wind blew through the doors and the cracks in the old Black stone walls. Wuunferth's dark blue mage robes flapped in the wind, as did the banners of Stormcloak above their heads. The dark blue bears seemed to roar across their banners as they rippled in front of their light blue and white backgrounds.

"I'd explain my research," the old man replied rudely, as he picked cheese out of his dirty white beard. "But you'd just be confused."

Before Jorleif could comment the palace doors opened and Ulfric Stormcloak came swopping in, his face solemn and his long blonde hair blowing wet in the wind. Standing at his side was his Housecarl, Galmar Stone-fist. Ulfric peeled of his gloves and threw them down on the table, along with his snow covered furs. He sat, his grim face washing away at the sight of Jorleif.

"Hello old friend," he said. "It was a hard ride from Solitude."

"Welcome home my Lord," Jorleif replied gracefully. There was plenty of time to ask questions but he was eager for answers. "Many rumours have been coming from the west. They say the High King is dead?"

"I killed Torygg to prove our wretched condition," the Jarl answered unafraid and unashamed. "How was the High King supposed to be the defender of Skyrim, if he couldn't even defend himself?"

"Some of these rumours say this. Some also call you out as a murderer, my Lord."

"I challenged him in the traditional way, and he accepted. There were many witnesses to this. No murder was committed. True, he didn't stand a chance against me, but that was precisely the point!" Ulfric continued, his voice starting to rise, in a rallying kind of way. "He was nothing more than a puppet-king of the Empire, not a High King of Skyrim. His father before him perhaps, but not Torygg. He was far too privileged and too foolish, more interested in entertaining his Queen than ruling his country!"

"Some also say you killed him with magic. Shouted him to death."

"Not entirely true, as I'm sure you would know," Ulfric grinned. "Although in a way, not entirely false either. As you know any Nord can learn the way of the voice by studying with the Greybeards, given enough ambition and dedication. My shouting Torygg to the ground proved that he had neither. However, I can assure you that it was my sword piercing his heart that killed him. I suppose Torygg's widow will soon be claiming her right to the throne of the High Queen?"

"Elisif will indeed become Jarl of Solitude," Jorleif answered. "Historically the home of the High King, backed by Imperial interests. But all the Jarl's will still have to meet at the Moot to name her High Queen."

"And they won't!" Ulfric said with a growing anger in his voice. "Not as long as I have any say in it. A true High King of Skyrim should be sitting on a throne in one of the old holds, not one in an Imperial city. He should be sitting on the throne of Ysgramor himself!" he finished gesturing at his own throne.

"Are you saying that you desire to be High King, Ulfric?"

"No, but there hasn't been a true High King in Skyrim for generations. For too long he's been hand-picked by the Emperor, and given emphatic nods by milk-drinking Jarls addicted to Imperial coin." He stood to address his men throughout the hall. "It's time we had a real king. One of our own choosing, whoever they may be!"

"If we aim to make our own High King and too many of the Jarls side with the Imperials, civil war will rage before the Moot can meet," Jorleif explained.

"Then we will start by kicking the Thalmor and their bloody Imperial puppets out of the country!" Galmar Stone-Fist growled, raising his fisted spiked bracer. "Once we have our true High King, we'll rebuild Skyrim into the land she once was. When we are done with that, we will take our army to the Dominion and show those pointy-eared bastards not every man is fit to be their slave!"

"This will lead to innocent bloodshed," Jorleif continued. "Do we really have reason to follow this course of action?"

"Reason? Since when does a man need a reason to protect his family, to defend his homeland?" Galmar asked with rage. "It's the damn outlanders and Empire that need the reasons."

"Skyrim has been a part of the Empire since its inception."

"Not this Empire. The world's better off without it and Skyrim certainly is. Ulfric and I fought in the Imperial army in the war against the Dominion. We bled and spilt blood for the Empire and for what? For the Empire to bend its knee before those evil elf bastards? Signing a treaty meant to kill the heart of the Empire itself. To deny Talos? No, I will have no part of any such Empire and I will gladly gut anyone who says otherwise."

"Jorleif has a point," Ulfric said. "He may be unskilled in the tactics of war but he's able to see the whole in its parts. If we can convince the other Jarls to take Skyrim from the Empire without bloodshed all the better. But if not, we must still be ready for it," he finished, taking a seat on his throne.

"So what is our first action, my Lord?"

"I want you to send messengers to all the Jarls. Explain to them what has happened. What I plan to do and that they must pick their side."

"Is that wise, my Lord?"

"I'm not seeking advice now, friend. Just send the messages."

"Of course, my Lord. It will be done as you wish. And speaking of messengers, a courier came from Dawnstar yesterday morning, from Skald, Jarl of the Pale. A few nights back, the Hall of the Vigilant was burned to the ground by a clan of vampires. Vigilant leader Carcette was killed during the attack and the surviving Vigilants are now scattered across Skyrim. The ancient Dawnguard order appears to be reforming to combat the growing vampire threat."

"I presently have larger concerns dealing with the rest of Skyrim to care about a small vampire clan. Even so…" Ulfric pondered. "Let me know if you hear anything else on the matter. These vampires won't be very sympathetic to our cause. If there is anything we can do to gain the Dawnguard's support, it should be done."


End file.
